American Cultural Parameters
by jacedesbff
Summary: What happens when Natasha is the one who realizes she's in love? What does she do when she needs someone to turn to for advice? What if that someone is a something? Chapter 1 is Natasha's POV. Chapter 2 is Clint's. Rated for romantic content.
1. Chapter 1

**I read a lot of Clintasha fanfiction. A lot. And almost all of it takes the point of view that Clint is the one who realizes he has feelings, which is okay, because given the dynamics of the couple involved, that's the likely scenario. I wanted to explore the other one. I'm starting with Natasha's POV; chapter two will be Clint's POV. Also, I reference some comic canon here, but only as it's useful; this is based on the movie. Thank you for reading!**

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Natasha Romanoff was not happy with herself. Frankly, she wasn't happy, period. When had this happened? How? She was the Black Widow. Things like this did not happen to her. _She_ happened to _them_, thank you. Them being men. She, Natasha Romanoff, happened to men for a living. She did not, under any circumstances, fall for them. This could not be happening. It could not have happened.

She and Clint had been working together for four years now, and they were a scary-good team. Their missions operated at peak efficiency, only getting better with time. No matter how difficult or high-risk, the team of Hawkeye and Black Widow always succeeded. They communicated both on and off missions in ways that other agents envied. They knew each other inside and out, and in growing to know her partner that well, Natasha had apparently come to love him.

It took her a long time to realize that's what was happening, or that that's what had already happened. In the Black Widow training program, in the Red Room, trainees weren't allowed to become close to each other. They didn't even become close to their trainers. The only constant they were allowed was Mother Russia, which Natasha never quite bought into. Allegiance to a country that changed ruling philosophies in the middle of the program? A crucial interruption at a crucial juncture of indoctrination resulted in fairly epic failure.

So Natasha had no basis for recognizing love, not subjectively, anyway. She was trained to recognize it in marks. But as a Black Widow, she simply hadn't been allowed to love anyone, romantically or otherwise. And now she felt like the teenager she had never been, unsure of what to do with this new onslaught of emotions. Outwardly Natasha showed no sign of her revelation; inwardly, she felt like an emotional bomb had gone off inside of her.

Up until a few weeks ago, she and Clint were simply the best of partners. And that perfect set of affairs hadn't been unsettled by a near-death experience or a daring rescue, no, no, nothing that...honorable, damnit. No, what threw her life into a tailspin was seeing a junior agent with a perky blonde ponytail and perky little boobs flirting with her partner, and her partner flirting back. And suddenly Natasha wanted to whip out her Widow's Bite and shock that perky ponytail into next week.

No, no, she couldn't do that. She was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. She could accomplish the same thing through an undercover up. No one would ever have to know Natasha was involved. Her mind was already several steps ahead, analyzing tactics and planning for eventualities when Clint turned his head and saw her, the expression on his face changing when he saw hers. That look brought Natasha back to reality.

Had she really just done that? Wait, had she seriously been planning how to kill a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent because the woman was flirting with her _partner_? As she looked away from Clint's wary gaze, Natasha acknowledged to herself that her insane anger came from the fact that Clint had flirted back. And why shouldn't he? He didn't have a girlfriend or a wife or anyone to go home to besides her. Clint was an attractive, virile man – he had needs. Who the hell was she to get mad because he moved to fill them?

Neither having any experience herself nor anyone to talk to, Natasha turned to the only thing that seemed like it might be able to help – American media. Knowing that S.H.I.E.L.D. could and would track her Internet habits but being beyond caring, Natasha turned to the online world for help in approaching her situation. How did Americans view love, or at least how had they been culturally conditioned to view it? If she could become familiar with that, maybe it would give her some insight into how to deal with being in love with one. Maybe? It's not like she had anyone else to ask. Having no personal frame of reference, the spy turned to lists of American romance movies on the Internet. Sure, that seemed like a good place to start.

The first movie she watched was "The Notebook".

Oh, sweet merciful heavens, is that what love looked like? That was miserable! That was messy, and confusing, and it looked incredibly _painful_. Although the couple did have fifty-something years together. That part wasn't bad. But did it really have to be that hard to get there?

Clint grew up in middle America, had been exposed to the standard round of pop culture that everyone else in the U.S. had. Knowing that he preferred movies made during his own lifetime, Natasha stuck to more current movies. Next up? "Dirty Dancing".

When she was done with that one, Natasha felt more prepared to lure marks in through provocative dancing, but not necessarily closer to understanding love. Although...maybe that wasn't true. It certainly lead you to do things you wouldn't normally do. Baby dirty danced, Johnny had an affair with a rich girl. As normally Natasha wouldn't plot the deaths of fellow agents, maybe her jealous rage really was a sign of love. Okay, not a total waste of time.

Following the Internet again, Natasha moved on to "Titanic".

Well, um, okay. Really? Um...so love motivated people to...change their lives, be better people, break out of their comfort zones. That was clearly the message about love in the sinking ship film. That applied, didn't it? She was here working for S.H.I.E.L.D., after all. But she hadn't been in love with Clint when she met him. No, that snuck up on her. She went with Clint because he offered her an alternative to the empty life she was living. She stayed with the agency, though, and she was a better person now than when she came in, she knew that for sure. Had Clint motivated that? Was he part of the reason she had changed into something less irredeemable than she had been before? Well, yes, but not all of it was due to him. A lot of it came from who she was inside, how she had chosen to change. The same could be said for Rose. Jack was dead by the time Rose started actually living her life. So love could motivate, but she herself was still responsible for her own actions.

She still wasn't quite sure that sitting through the boat sinking had been worth what she gained, because, well, just because, but fine, she had to watch all of that to see how Rose's life turned out. Seriously, though? This is what American teenagers grew up on? And while these were all chick flicks, she knew that Clint had seen them. Well, maybe not "The Notebook", but apparently everyone had seen "Titanic", multiple times even. And she remembered Clint making a "Dirty Dancing" reference when Patrick Swayze died. Something about wanting to dance like him so he could impress girls in high school. Even if he hadn't seen "The Notebook", though, any girl that he'd ever dated had. It was still part of Clint's cultural make-up.

Okay, all of the sites said "Gone with the Wind" was required viewing. It wasn't made in the time parameters she had set, but given the vehemence with which it was championed online, Natasha figured she'd better watch it. On to Civil War Atlanta it was.

Um, if nothing else, it was probably more realistic in its depiction of love. Because it was fairly unclear from scene to scene whether Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler were going to have sex or kill each other. Modern Americans, though, seemed to prefer happy endings. Even "Dirty Dancing" avoided pointing out that in the end, the couple had to _break up_. Natasha had to wonder, though, was America's media culture in any way preparing them its citizens for the realities of living a life with someone? The majority of screen time in these movies seemed to focus on a couple getting together with not much time given to how to sustain a relationship. Then again, dealing with that initial realization of love was Natasha's focus right now, wasn't it? If she and Clint did "get together", though, she didn't want it to be a fleeting thing.

She set about on a new quest, and her search for a movie about a long-term relationship did indeed yield results. "Brokeback Mountain" it was.

Well, that was depressing. Again, the overarching concept seemed to be that love was formative like a powerful waterfall. It shaped lives, defined self-images, never let those it felt it go. Much like the web of an orb-weaver spider catching its food, love absolutely never let its prey go. Of course, Natasha wasn't trying to get free. But could she? If she wanted to? Or would how she felt about Clint follow her no matter where she went or who she went with for the rest of her life? Well, if that was how it was going to be, then she might as well be with the guy she loved rather than settling for a substitute. Okay, then, what now?

One more movie. Having spent two weeks watching and thinking about American romance movies whenever she had a free moment, Natasha felt more educated than when she started. She still needed to know what to say, though. The Internet hadn't let her down so far. The last hurrah? "When Harry Met Sally".

A long-term relationship punctuated by scenes of elderly couples telling their stories. She had ended with a good one. Apparently words were the way to go. None of this messing around stuff, just like on an op. Once you know who you love, you tell them. She got that from all of the movies, actually – the object of your affection may or may not return your feelings, but keeping them bottled up seemed to end disastrously no matter what. Relationships that could have started sooner, don't, ruining lives. Innocent bystanders get dragged in as collateral damage when involved parties settle for them. No. No, she wasn't doing that.

If Clint was horrified to find out that Natasha was in love with him, she would have to hope that the two of them were professional enough to continue working together. They had to be. If they weren't, well, at least she wouldn't feel like this anymore. Either she and Clint would be together or they wouldn't. If they were, all was well. If they weren't, she could deal with the pain and move on. Now she just needed a plan. She had been watching a lot of movies, though. And she was Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow operative of S.H.I.E.L.D., product of the Red Room. She lived to create plans.

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**I am really curious as to everyone's response to this. Let me know what you think! Oh, and Meg Ryan's famous scene will be mentioned in the next chapter. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Now we get Clint's POV. Why is his partner acting so strange? Not for any reason he expected. As a note, I don't write lemons, but this is pretty intense. You've been warned! Thank you again for reading. :-)**

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Clint knew there was something up with his partner. He just didn't know what it was. Natasha wasn't a moody partner like some others he had seen and heard of, not even at that time of the month. If anything, that just made her more ruthless. Heaven help the human trafficker who hurt a child when Natasha was on her period. Actually, not even heaven could help them, and Clint was just fine with that.

When not on a mission, Clint and Natasha would usually go out together in the evenings after work, but for the past few weeks, Natasha kept claiming to have something to do. She never said what the thing (or things?) were, but regardless, she didn't want to go anywhere with Clint. Looking back for an inciting incident, all he could come up with was the look he caught on Natasha's face when he was talking with Jen from Records. It reminded him somewhat of the look on his partner's face when she went after child molesters while on her period. But because he was talking to a colleague? It seemed a little harsh.

Clint looked over at Natasha. They had just completed a quick mission, in and out of Bern, and now they were on their way to Liechtenstein to go to ground for a few days. One did not stay in the country in which one had taken out an extremely corrupt politician. They had been in the car for two and a half hours and were only a few minutes away from their hotel. Natasha had been unnaturally quiet the entire trip, showing that odd blankness that had been so present lately.

On occasion, Natasha got tired of staying in somewhat sketchy neighborhoods and would arrange for them to stay in nice accommodations. She would either pay for it herself with the money she made before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. or she'd get Fury to pay for it. Either way, this was one of those occasions, so here they were on their way to the Parkhotel Sonnenhof, a $600-a-night in one of the richest countries in the world. Yeah, life was rough.

When they got into their suite, chosen to protect their cover as wealthy vacationing Americans, Clint let Natasha take the first shower while he ordered room service. The food arrived while Clint was taking his turn in the restroom. He came out to find Natasha in a t-shirt and sweatpants sitting at what looked like an antique table covered with a sumptuous feast. Yeah, it was good to have a partner who occasionally insisted on having the best.

"I've been watching movies," Tasha said as Clint sat down and started filling his plate. "American romance movies."

Huh? Clint didn't even try to hide his intense confusion.

Answering the questions on his face, Tasha explained.

"Americans think they have a pretty rosy view of love, but actually, I don't think so. Have you seen "Dirty Dancing"? They don't end up together," she was very insistent. "But it's this big romantic movie. And in "Titanic", Jack dies! And "Gone with the Wind"? Their kid dies and they hate each other! I mean, really, what's the big thing about how Americans love romance when your most romantic movies don't have the couple end up together?"

Clint still sat in shocked silence. Oh, she was pausing. Did she want him to speak now?

"Um, I don't know?" What question was he answering again?

"And "Brokeback Mountain"," Natasha continued again. "We won't even go there."

"Wait a minute, you went there? Um, to Brokeback Mountain? Film...o...logically, speaking?"

Natasha gave Clint a look like he had dropped his bow on a mission. _Quel stupide!_

"I needed a look at a long-term relationship."

Of course she had. Who wouldn't turn to Jake Gyllenhaal for that? At least, um, she was being thorough?

A pause again. Oh, okay, time to speak again.

"And you were doing all of this because...?"

"I realized I was in love with you so I needed to do research into what Americans have been conditioned to feel about love and romance."

Blank. Clint's mind went completely blank. He was literally incapable of thought or speech.

It was okay, though, his partner had more to say.

"Being straightforward seems to be both an accepted and effective method of handling things, of telling someone you love them." Natasha looked at him. When Clint didn't respond, she continued. ""When Harry Met Sally", "Dirty Dancing", "The Notebook". The direct approach is what got things going." She paused to look at him again. Still he couldn't speak.

""Titanic", too."

Awkward silence.

Natasha seemed to be running out of steam.

Unbidden, words came out of Clint's mouth.

"When did you realize this? That you, um, love me?"

Natasha very calmly responded, "When I saw you and the perky blonde from Records together. I'd never felt like that before," her voice took on a contemplative quality. "That bothered me, so I figured out what it was—"

"And did the accompanying research," Clint concluded for her. Of course she had. She was Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and, apparently, hater of Jen from Records.

"We needed the Picaya files," again the words seemed to fall out of Clint's mouth onto the table in front of him of their own accord. "For the brief. That's why I was talking to Jen, the, um, perky blonde." Clint nodded at his partner. "They're sealed and I formal requests take too long. Jen got 'em for us in twenty minutes."

"It's okay," Natasha replied. "We don't have a romantic relationship. Even if you had been flirting with her, it would be okay. I hadn't thought about it before, but you are—you're perfectly free to pursue sexual relationships. We're not—"

"I haven't slept with anyone since Istanbul," Clint cut her off.

There was a moment of shocked silence.

"Well, right before Istanbul," Clint clarified.

"Istanbul?" Natashed asked. "That was over two years ago."

"Yes, it was." A simple reply.

"Why not?" It was Natasha's turn to be confused.

And it finally occurred to Clint – Natasha Romanoff had just told him she loved him. Why in the hell were they still _talking_?

He stood up so fast, Clint knocked his chair over, putting Natasha instantly on alert. Intent only on his goal, Clint pulled his partner up onto her feet, her face in his hands, and delivered to her the kind of steamy, deep kiss that before this evening he would have said existed only in the movies.

It was an extra-sensory experience, kissing Natasha. She filled him completely – smell, taste, sound, touch. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. Clint claimed her mouth with a passion he had never allowed himself to unleash. Until now.

It was as though the fire of her hair was pulsing through his fingers as Clint clutched Natasha's hair in his hands. Everywhere she touched him felt like an electric shock. His face, his neck, his arms. One moment that lasted an eternity.

The two of them came up for air, foreheads touching, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

Clint spoke first. "No woman can measure up to you, Tasha. I couldn't settle for second best."

Natasha grabbed the hem of Clint's t-shirt and pulled it over his head, her need to touch him as great as his to claim every inch of her.

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Clint Barton hadn't had many perfect moments in his life that didn't take place behind a bow and arrow. Abusive father who killed both himself and his mother in a drunk driving accident when he was just a kid, two years in foster homes followed by eight in the circus, four in the military and then a move to S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint had led a very strange life, one full of uncertainty where the only constant was change. And ultimately, it was when he sighted a target and let his arrow fly that Clint could finally be perfect, finally do something exactly right.

Lying in bed with Natasha was the first time Clint ever felt like that without a weapon in his hands.

"It would seem that the movies were right," Natasha said with a smile in her voice as her foot lazily traced Clint's calf.

"Nobody puts Baby in a corner," Clint replied, his fingers drifting over Natasha's hip.

Natasha gave a low chuckle, her body vibrating lightly against his.

"I was referring to the direct approach. It worked best in "When Harry Met Sally". Want to see me do what Sally did in the cafe?"

It was Clint's turn to laugh. "If I don't get there, do me a favor and don't fake it. I'm more than happy to help rectify the situation."

Natasha turned into him, "Based on recent events, I think we'll be able to work things out, don't you?"

Clint put his arm over Tasha, pulling her closer to him. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her on the head.

Natasha peered up at his partner, her chin resting on his sternum.

"You love me." Her tone was surprised, almost awed.

"I do believe," he replied with a smile.

Natasha pulled herself up to sit on Clint's lap. Moving up to lean against the headboard, Clint raised his legs to give her something to lean back on. Before settling in, she reached over the edge of the bed and picked his t-shirt up off of the floor, slipping it on. Then she settled back against Clint's legs.

Clint had seen his partner in all manner of dress. Evening gowns, lingerie, form-fitting leather, whatever it took to meet the parameters of a mission. But in all the time he had known her, Natasha had never looked as alluring or as enticing to Clint as she did at that moment wearing nothing but his plain blue t-shirt.

Natasha put her arms behind her back, hooking them around Clint's calves, seeming to revel in the feel of him under her hands.

"People like us don't usually get happy endings," she said, her fingers trailing back and forth over his legs.

"Movies, right? That's how we got here?" Clint asked, shaking himself in an effort to concentrate. Natasha's hands were a bit distracting.

"It is," Natasha seemed a little preoccupied herself, her voice a little breathy.

Think, Clint. You can do it!

""Mr. and Mrs. Smith". Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Really bad assassins who get married not knowing what the other does."

"Bad assassins?"

Clint huffed. "They're supposed to be good, but trust me – you'll be horrified." Natasha smiled and Clint continued. "It's not pretty, but they end up together in the end."

"Two spies with a happy ending?" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"And we don't lie to each other, which they did constantly, so we're already ahead of the game."

Clint sat up and took his partner in his arms.

"You love me." It was a statement, not a question.

"I do," Natasha's voice held wonder in it.

"And I love you."

Natasha didn't say anything, but her hands clutched at Clint's arms and her eyes bore into his.

"We do what we do, we work as a team, we love each other while we do it. You said straightforward was the way to go." He traced her bottom with his thumb. "This seems pretty straightforward to me."

Natasha leaned forward to deliver a searing kiss of her own, hands curling through Clint's short hair.

Again they came up for air, and Natasha looked her lover in the eye.

"I'll never let go," she whispered.

/fin


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